


The Air, The Salt On My Skin

by Lion_owl



Series: Weddings In Springtime - Trilogy [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bajor, But not exclusively this time, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Lwaxana is long over Odo, M/M, Mostly focused on the women, My Apologies to Lwaxana and Ishka and Zek for your absence last time, Not quite the ensemble cast, Post-Canon, Sequel, Weddings, Work In Progress, friends - Freeform, happiness, more tags may be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl
Summary: After six years together, Ezri is thinking about Kira and a beautiful wedding on Bajor.More reunions all-round. Plus, some development in Molly and Ulaya's relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!  
> If you celebrate new year on the first of January, of course, and even if you don’t I hope good things are happening to you, and things get better if they're not.
> 
> Yes, I have changed the title from what I initially wrote in the series description. I didn’t really like it. I’m not 100% happy with this one either but I do feel like the song I took it from (Yellowcard – Southern Air) is a rather fitting one for this particular story. Anyway, enjoy!

Vulcans, on average, slept for fewer hours than most other species so far encountered in this little corner of the galaxy. Klingons _should_ sleep for longer than they claim they need to, but, well, they’re Klingons. What kind of a test of strength would it be to get a healthy amount of rest when you could be drinking blood wine and singing songs of glorious battles instead?

Bajorans, as Jadzia had discovered, required more sleep than Trills did – Ezri was beginning to wonder if that average would even out without Nerys to take into account. When there was work to be done, Nerys was very good at getting herself out of bed and onto the task. When they were on away missions, she was more alert than any of them, an instinct built into her by so many years in the resistance, built into the last three generations of her species.

But when she slept, _she slept._ Whenever she could, she slept a good fifteen or sixteen hours a night. There had been some nights, even, when she’d slept up to twenty-two hours and Ezri had actually started to worry she was going to die – once Nerys’ breathing had hitched and she had actually called up the infirmary in a panic, but it turned out that was a natural part of the Bajoran sleep cycle.

Usually, however, Nerys’ long sleeping hours meant that Ezri could sit up in bed with a nice hot mug of something to drink and watch her lover sleep; and contemplate. She was beautiful, really she was. Jadzia thought so, too, but never considered her as a potential partner. Nerys had been Jadzia’s best friend – Benjamin would always be Dax’s best friend, Curzon had felt that way, so had Jadzia and now so did Ezri – but Nerys was _Jadzia_ ’s best friend, and as such had always been off-limits as anything else. Besides, at that time, Nerys always had other people in her life.

When Jadzia had died nearly everything she had had, except for Benjamin’s friendship, had nearly been lost to Ezri. Nerys wasn’t Ezri’s best friend, but they got on well enough and formed a stable working relationship. Worf wasn’t Ezri’s husband, but she had these residual feelings for him that she wasn’t equipped to understand, having had Dax thrust upon her the way she had. Julian was still her friend but suddenly he was really, _really_ attractive? She’d told him once that if Worf hadn’t come along it would have been him – what utter nonsense, Jadzia would never have married Julian. What she’d meant was that she was very confused.

She’d tried dating Julian, but she just hadn’t been happy; among her attraction to him, she had all Jadzia’s memories of this naïve young man – as far as Dax was concerned, practically a little kid – who had grown and matured over the years and become one of her most reliable friends, then Ezri, as much a little kid as he had once been (she’d only been fifteen then, and unjoined) came along and had to go and rock the boat. She’d been lucky that he was long over Jadzia and that his true feelings lay with another, or she could have ruined everything. They’d both been relieved when they’d called it off.

Over the months after they’d lost Benjamin, and everyone else they’d known had gone their separate ways, her friendship with Nerys had grown, but it was different to what it had been with Nerys and Jadzia – that was how it was supposed to be, after all, Ezri was a different person – even more so when Julian left and all they had left was Morn – and in Ezri’s case, Quark, of whom Nerys had never been and probably never would be particularly fond.

They’d met new people, who’d filled the posts left by their friends. Doctor Adelina Bachmeier in particular, the new Chief Medical Officer, had become a close friend over the last few years. Then Benjamin had come back, and so had Kasidy. Life on the station had settled back down, and Ezri was now her own person, not just Jadzia’s successor or worse, her replacement. And finally, she felt completely at home there, and stopped worrying that she should be moving away, thoughts which had dominated her mind for the first year or two of her being there.

Then came that fateful night.

Ezri had lost a lot of confidence after her unexpected joining – who wouldn’t, with eight new voices suddenly trying to contribute to how she thought, how she acted; eight new lifetimes worth of memories where previously she had only had her own, and absolutely no training on how to deal with it? – and started questioning herself. Constantly. Everything she did or said, she would spend hours afterwards deliberating with herself – not even with herself, really, but with Lela, Tobin, Emony, Audrid, Torias, Joran, Curzon and Jadzia, all these people who were dead, some of them long-dead – trying to decide if she’d been right to do or say it.

How could she have expected other people to distinguish between herself and Jadzia, when she couldn’t? she’d been mourning the loss of Jadzia’s husband, among others, and slept with Nerys, someone who Jadzia had thought beautiful and maybe very deep down was attracted to. How could Nerys look at her again? But Nerys was as much to blame, wasn’t she?

It had been a rocky seven weeks. They’d agreed not to do it again, but they had, and every time they had she’d found herself falling a little bit more in love with someone who was her friend, her colleague, who was not supposed to be her lover. But that’s what she became. And every time she told herself to stop, she heard Torias’ voice, Curzon’s voice. _You should learn to live a little_. Lela’s voice, Jadzia’s voice. _You’ll probably regret it if you do this._ Voices she thought she’d learned to control. It didn’t help that Torias and Lela sounded just a little like Julian and Nerys, respectively, because of Jadzia’s zhian’tara.

Jadzia probably would have encouraged her to explore what was happening – but unlike Curzon she would have told her to do so carefully – and by _God_ did she want to. She loved Nerys. Ezri loved Nerys. She knew she had to say something. So she had, but Nerys’ feelings for Odo had got caught up in it: Ezri had actually mostly forgotten about Odo, but when Nerys had assumed Ezri was upset because she wasn’t over him, she was sure it had been over for them. She’d wondered if there was still a place for her on the _Destiny_ or another starship _._ But Nerys had invited her out to dinner instead, and kissed her, and it had been mostly clear skies from then on.

Ezri and Nerys’ relationship had grown as strong as Jadzia and Nerys’ relationship had been; but it was different. With Jadzia, Nerys could go to for advice about people she wanted to date or sleep with, they could talk and laugh about their partners and they could cry on each other’s shoulders when they lost someone. With Ezri, Nerys was that person. They went on dates and slept together, and they didn’t talk or laugh or cry about romantic or sexual partners but they did talk, laugh and cry about whatever they needed or wanted to talk, laugh and cry about. And they did build a relationship out of reciprocity and they did rely on each other. And it came naturally to them, both.

It had been six years since that fateful night, and Ezri couldn’t be more glad that it happened; and in those many hours when Ezri had sat up in bed with a nice hot mug of something to drink, she could watch her lover sleep; and she could contemplate.

And one day, she made a decision.

**

Nerys awoke to the smell of breakfast wafting into the bedroom, and smiled.

It smelled like real breakfast – Ezri had been cooking. Today was the anniversary of their first date, that night at the Vulcan restaurant, and she planned to take Ezri to the house in Musilla Province for a few days. She’d been considering doing so for a while, but it never seemed like quite the right time. It was such a romantic spot, but perhaps just a little _too_ romantic, and even after five years it had seemed like too soon; but she’d decided this year it was time. She’d checked with her friend that the house was available, which it was, and completely without Ezri’s knowledge she’d secured them both some time off work.

She wandered into the living room and the first thing she noticed was Ezri was not there. Had she cooked for herself and left? That was not in keeping with her character, though neither was leaving the food on a plate, which Nerys noticed she’d done when she saw it sitting on the dining table. Was she in the bathroom? But Nerys couldn’t hear any sounds of movement or running water coming from the en-suite.

Then her eyes fell on a piece of paper – actual paper – sitting beside the plate. Hoping for an explanation for this curious situation, she picked it up and unfolded it. Handwritten, in Bajoran, it read:

_Bear with me on this one, once you’ve eaten breakfast, go to Quark’s and ask him for a Romulan Ale._

Romulan ale? The drink had become illegal here when Bajor had become a member of the Federation. No doubt Quark would have a supply of it anyway, but what was Ezri playing at?

She wolfed down her breakfast – quite unlike her, but she wanted to settle the queasy feeling that was starting to shake her stomach; was she nervous? – and got dressed quickly, not into her uniform but some casual clothes, and made her way to the bar.

“Ah, Colonel!” Quark greeted her jovially. “What’ll it be?”

“Romulan ale,” she said quickly, not wanting to waste time chatting to the Ferengi, who indeed produced a bottle of bright blue liquid that was _definitely_ not kanar. There was another piece of paper was taped to it. She peeled it off and began to walk away.

“Aren’t you going to take this?” He called after her. She turned and returned to the bar. “After Ezri forked out for it,” he finished.

“You shouldn’t even have this stuff,” she told him. “As station commander I certainly can’t be seen wandering about with it.” Why _had_ Ezri forked out for it? Whatever her endgame was, surely she could have chose a more, well, legal substance. Walking away from Quark, she unfolded the new note, also handwritten:

_Go to the place we had our first date and ask for a spice tea._

That would be the Vulcan restaurant. Had Ezri roped T’Paral in on whatever this was? Her anxiety was beginning to fade, but she was still confusion abound. What _was_ going on?

When she reached the restaurant, it was deserted – people didn’t eat dinner at ten hundred hours – but the sound of pots and pans in the kitchen could be heard. T’Paral, the head chef since three years ago and owner of the restaurant for two years, would already have started preparing meals for later that day. With a little hesitation, Nerys stepped around the wall into the kitchen, and received a raised eyebrow from T’Paral.

“Could I, um,” she coughed. It felt weird ordering something from a premises which was technically closed. “have a spiced tea, please?”

“I don’t know what this is about either,” T’Paral said, as though reading her mind – except Vulcans could only do that when in physical contact, so likely the woman was as unfamiliar with this ritual as Nerys was – although frankly, she was beginning to enjoy it. She was handed a mug of spiced tea which T’Paral had just poured, and downed it in several gulps, which felt better. Then she was handed another note:

_One time, we caught Leeta and Rom making out in here._

This one took a moment to think about. It had actually been Chief O’Brien who had caught them, not long after Rom and Leeta had gotten together, when their relationship had been fresh and new, he’d gone to check up on Rom’s progress with some repair or other, and he hadn’t been there. Miles had heard muffled sounds coming from a storage compartment, where he found his missing engineer, who was indeed making out with Leeta.

Presumably there was currently nobody hiding in there, what, waiting to give Nerys something to eat or drink – that seemed to be the theme – and a note? Maybe Ezri was waiting in there. When she reached the particular compartment, however, it was devoid of humanoids. There was, however, a plate of hasperat and another folded, handwritten note:

 _Your office,_ was all this one had written on it.

Taking a bite of the hasperat, she set off to where she’d been directed. When she got to the promenade, Doctor Bachmeier came over to her.

“You’ll need this when you get there,” Adelina handed her what looked like a jet-black bar of soap, and Nerys gave her a quizzical look. She shrugged, winked and walked away, towards the infirmary, leaving Nerys standing there feeling even more confused.

Well, only one thing for it. She stepped onto the lift and commanded it to take her to ops, crossing that room quickly when she got there, and up the steps, letting herself into her office. Still there was no sign of Ezri, only a glass of water sitting on her desk and yet _another_ note. Okay, she was enjoying it, but she hoped she was nearly at the end of the trail, and wherever that was, she hoped Ezri was there.

She took a sip of the water as she unfolded the note.

_Drop the soap thing in the glass._

Oh, so this wasn’t for her to drink. She obliged and immediately it began to fizz and dissolve, turning the water grey in the process. Odd.

There was a rattle, and the door to the Jeffries tube connected to the office burst open, and Ezri fell out, into the room.

“Good morning,” Nerys said, finding an amused tone in her voice.

“Morning!” Ezri got up and straightened out her uniform.

“You’re going to have to take that off,” Nerys remarked, then realised what she’d implied. “I mean, you should go back to our quarters and change into your civvies, since you’re off work today.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, I booked us a few…” She trailed off. Most of the soap was gone and it was becoming clear what the purpose of this entire exercise had been. She stuck her hand in the glass and fished out what was definitely a betrothal bracelet. Definitely. Complete with the Kira family emblem engraved on it.

She was floored.

“I…” she opened and closed her mouth several times, trying and failing to come up with a decent response, and watched as Ezri’s hopeful expression turned to worry.

It wasn’t that Nerys had never considered marriage – it was something she had always wanted, but it had always been right at the bottom of her list of priorities. It never seemed like the right time. There was never the right person, either. But she and Ezri had been together for six years, now. It was the longest relationship Nerys had ever had – and perhaps it was time to take that step. She wasn’t getting any younger, and she did really, really love Ezri.

“Yes,” she said, before Ezri could build up too much doubt. “Yes, it – I’d love to marry you.”

Her lover’s – her fiancée’s – face burst out into a wide grin as she slid the bracelet over her fingers to hang around her wrist. It fitted nicely. She took Ezri by the waist and pulled her closer.

“I’m so happy,” a tear ran down Ezri’s face and she wiped it away. “Also, happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” Nerys leaned in and they kissed gently. “About that,” she said when they parted lips, but remained in a tight embrace. She picked up a PADD that was sitting on her desk, unlocked it and handed it to Ezri. “I take it you missed this when you broke in here.”

“What is it?” Ezri asked, taking the PADD and reading the information on the screen out loud. “Ezri Dax; station counsellor. On shore leave until stardate 62085.9. Kira Nerys; station commander. On shore leave until stardate 62085.9. Kira Nerys; station commander; authorised: use of runabout _USS Clyde._ ” She kissed her again. “You booked us a holiday.”

“I did, shall we go?” Ezri nodded as she replaced the PADD on the desk. They made their way out of ops and down to the habitat ring to pack, Nerys flaunting her betrothal bracelet proudly.

**Author's Note:**

> About the stardate I used, 62085.9, I have no idea how accurate it is. I went onto chakoteya.net and it has all the stardates at the top of each page. I used that to work out based on a few episodes that 1000.0 on the stardate scale is approximately 1 year. So i reason that at least part of 62###.# coincides with at least part of 2385, and i can't be more specific than that. If anyone has a better explanation i would love to hear it.


End file.
